


Hers (a tale of virginity)

by JaqofSpades



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Rimming, Smuckleberry Week, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/pseuds/JaqofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is a serious business, reclaiming him.  Best not to rush it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hers (a tale of virginity)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for day three of the Smuckleberry Week challenge on tumblr, to the prompt "virginity". It picks up the Puck and Rachel from my story "Reciprocity" some 18 months or so later, just after graduation.

She surveys his body and contemplates where to start. He is sprawled on her bed, totally nude, and the temptation to simply pounce is nearly irresistable. Nearly, Rachel tells herself, sitting back in her favourite wicker chair and sliding her hands under her thighs to make them behave. This a serious business, reclaiming him. Best not to rush it.

Noah Puckerman. Born again virgin.

Hers.

Oh, where to start …

A kiss, of course. All good seductions start with a kiss. (So she had learnt at the knee of the master seducer himself.)

The knee?

“Noah. Have you ever been kissed … behind your knee?”

“Uh – no?” He looked puzzled, but intrigued. A definite possibility.

But there was another place she had always wanted to explore, one other place that, in the rush of there, there, _oh my God, there_ … she had never quite made it to.

“How about your back? Along your spine. All the way down?”

He simply groaned, a long, pained sound that suggested the very depths of temptation. No need, Rachel promised silently. No need at all, love, because I'm not here to tease.

She rose from the chair and moved to the bed. He was already hard – the purple ensemble tended to have that effect – so she let her fingers trail over him, a gentle homage to heavy balls and his silken shaft and that delicious, helmeted head. That wasn't her territory tonight, though, Rachel reminded herself. All the unexplored places, the desires he'd never voiced. The places in which he was virgin.

Hers.

“Turn over.”

He swallowed hard at the raspiness in her voice, then slid himself down from where he was leaning up against the headboard, before rolling onto his chest, arms splayed wide. She bit her lip at the sight - the way he was reaching for the bedposts, all she would need was two scarves, and they were right there, in her closet and it would be so good … but … another night. (A night soon, she promised herself.) Tonight ...

The nape of his neck, she decided. Always so seductive, the way the tail of his mohawk directed her gaze to the twin bumps at the top of his spine, demanding her fingers follow. She leans over the bed to obey, and finds hot skin, smooth and brown and so delicious she needs to taste it, just a flick of her tongue, a swipe to find the salt. He tastes of sweat, of man. And … hers. Just hers.

She wants to taste them all, now, every bump on his spine and every muscled ridge and indentation and every inch of hot, brown skin. Her hands are roaming down his back, greedy, but she can't reach everything from here, even if he is close to the edge of the bed. She nudges him into the centre, and crawls up beside him, then keeps going, one knee either side of his ribs, the muscles of his butt clenching and unclenching beneath her as she seats herself right where he is roundest.

“Hi,” she cooes, because she knows what it's doing to him. He's hard, and her weight is forcing him down onto his cock, making it hurt.

Poor baby. (She rocks her hips a little. She's not the innocent here.)

Playtime's over, though, because the glorious lines of his back are right in front of her, begging for her fingers, and lips, and tongue, and teeth … maybe even her eyelashes. She bends forward, and decides to start there, a flutter against his top vertebra, and a gentle kiss to the second. She hovers above the third, until his muscles are tense with expectation, then simply blows, the hot rush of air making him groan. That earns him a bite, but it's not punishment. She knows what he likes.

He's sweating in earnest now, salt and damp and slippery all over, and it tastes so good, Rachel ups her schedule. A long, wet slide of her tongue, vertebrae five through nine, eleven, twelve, fifteen. She feels hungry, ravenous for him, and she's reaching the best place, the dip before it swells into his beautiful butt, and she needs to linger here, appreciate it properly. Her hands, fingernails scratching tiny paths of pleasure along his sides, then tracing the muscles down, and around. Her mouth, following, a nip and a lick to kiss it better. Humming against his skin, and moving above him, her bra-clad breasts brushing against the globes of his ass, as if seeking touch of their own.

His moans drag her from reverie, and she smirks to find him driving himself into the bed, humping the mattress.

“Patience, love. Not far to go now,” she soothes him, and slides back further. Bites him – hard, no playful nip, this – glorying in hard muscle under her fingers and between her teeth, and the sobs that she can hear him making as she inches closer to the line of glory that bisects him. She pushes the globes of his ass wide, and slips between his knees, spread wide now. A finger, first, tracing the path downwards until it comes to rest lightly against the sensitive ring of muscle. Around and around it goes, and she watches, mesmerised, before snapping back to her plan.

Her tongue, now, reaching down between those lean cheeks, a slow, wet lick right down to where her finger is still circling him.

“Please baby, please, Rachel … do it, please ...”

The desperation in his voice comes as a surprise, because – well, she suspected he would like this, yes, but she didn't know it would break him. She had simply wanted to find something he hadn't done before, something new, for herself. Something hers.

She slides her tongue around the edge of him, then flicks it, and pushes a little. It's a strange flavour, but not awful, she decides, and takes a deep breath. Pushes a little harder, and feels it give, pulse a little under the pressure. She fucks him slowly, with her tongue, and feels herself growing wet with the power of it. His hips are hammering against the bed, but the sounds he's making reek of frustration. One finger, she decides. She'll just try one.

She strokes him with one hand as she moves away slightly to slick her finger with saliva. Slippery would work better, she realises, and they've never needed to use lube … she smiles, remembering why. And slides two fingers between her legs, where the wetness is streaming. (Just the sight of him makes her wet. The feel, and taste of him, as he begs for her touch? Drenched.)

His head is turned, watching her as she slides her fingers in and out of herself. It's a night for firsts: his face is twisted with awe and lust and even a touch of fear.

“Are you okay with this? Really?” she asks softly, and he swallows again, as if speaking is too much. His voice is hoarse when he finally musters it.

“Fuck yes.”

“I'm taking your virginity.”

He laughs at first, then quietens in the face of her distinct lack of amusement. He's serious when he speaks again.

“Yeah baby, you are. I wish …”

She knows what he wishes – that he had been a virgin too, that he'd never treated sex as a game, that he hadn't based his entire self worth on deflowering Cheerios and nailing cougars. She wishes those things too, but that's what this is about, moving past those things. Reclaiming her territory.

And if she can reproduce that trick she read about online …

Hopefully getting him off, too.

“Lean up for me,” she whispers. “Hands and knees.”

He obeys, and the new view is so stimulating, she can't help but run her fingernails down over his backside, down towards where his testicles are hanging heavy between his legs. She leans forward to drag them into her mouth, as much she can, and palm his cock for a moment, adding the precum there to the juices already coating her fingers.

His heavy exhalation tells her they're back in the game, back in that place where bliss is just around the corner, and all you can focus on is getting there.

She jacks him one more time, then sits up to spread his butt cheeks again. Finds him with her tongue, again, circles and stabs and laves with wet kisses until his hips are moving of their own accord, and she knows she's running out of time. So she adds her finger, spiralling against the muscle, pushing down lightly.

“Harder,” he grunts, and she can see him flaring around her finger, bearing down. So she pushes, hard, and it slides in easily. And really, she was never going to stop at one, was she? She withdraws her hand, and this time, two fingers push inside, and it's tight, yes, but he's pushing back onto her hand and the tumble of obscenities from his lips suggests he likes it. A lot.

She works her fingers in and out, then slides them apart, wider, scissoring them. The groan is ripped from his chest, and his hips have begun to jerk uncontrollably, and she can't see it, but she knows he's coming. Maybe she should stop, but there was something about reaching and pressing if you could, and she can feel something … there.

“Fuck, holy, holy FUCK!” he screams, and she thinks she's hurt him, at first, but he's reared up and reaching around to hold her hand there, begging her not to move (or he would be, if his words were making any sense.) So she pushes again, and again, her front pushed up tight to his back, her head against his side so she can see around him. Watch his cock as he comes, again, and again, and again, long, thick, explosions of unbearable pleasure.

Not bad for a virgin, she smirks, and lays her head between his shoulderblades, drained. 

*

He blacks out, for a second, and when he wakes, she's there, curled against him.

It's the first time in his life that he's gotten off without getting his partner off first, he realises. He'll have to tell her that when she wakes up – that virginity's hers too. 

He wonders when he'll be able to tell her about the real one. The fucking scary one, that could change everything.

“I love you,” he'll say, for the first time in his life.

“I've been in love with you for so long.”

And 'cause he's Puck, recovering sex shark and former sex god of McKinley High, that'll be the one that counts. His real virginity. The one where he hands his heart to a girl heading off to New York in next week, while he heads for that music engineering course in LA.

Scary shit that. But she's just fucking claimed him, or something, and he knows they're gonna make it.

'Cause he's hers.

_fin_

_Disclaimer: This fanfiction was written for personal enjoyment rather than profit. No infringement on the rights of the intellectual property owners is intended._


End file.
